Skyrim - Argonian Adventures
by damienwiese
Summary: Deezgul is an Argonian traveler currently passing through Falkreath.
1. Chapter 1

_Argonian Adventures_

Deezgul watched the blacksmith from afar, admiring his workmanship. The workman's large biceps were flexing as he bent, soldered and moulded metal, creating armour, swords and shields. Deezgul came to the conclusion that the blacksmith was readying himself for a battle, or perhaps readying others for a battle, he couldn't be sure. One thing Deezgul could be sure of however was that the war had reached as far south as this if the blacksmith was preparing himself. Falkreath seemed like the sort of place where very little happened; Deezgul knew about the famous burial site located in the city and he had heard about the new Jarl but compared to somewhere like Solitude or Whiterun, Falkreath was quaint. _Not for much longer, _thought Deezgul.

The tall Argonian strode towards the blacksmith. As he approached, Deezgul studied the man's blacksmith robes, which were filthy but the sweat on his brow was a badge of hard work. Deezgul could smell the proud aura emanating from the man and knew his underhand purchasing tactics were unlikely to work here. The blacksmith looked up as Deezgul stopped a few paces away from the building but he didn't stop working. _This man is in a rush_.

"Excuse me," Deezgul said tentatively, not wanting to anger the blacksmith.

"Yes," was the reply from the blacksmith, who continued to work on the breastplate he was moulding. Deezgul suddenly felt like an intruder.

"I would like to buy a sword from you," he continued, "You are open for business isn't you?" Deezgul asked the question but feared the answer. The blacksmith was working at a ferocious pace with a look of determination carved onto his face and here he was asking him to stop and haggle.

"I'm busy." The blacksmith eyed Deezgul for a moment, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as if he thought the Argonian would attack him at any moment. Deezgul was familiar with the stare he was receiving from the blacksmith; he had seen it so many times before since arriving in Skyrim. It was a look of fear, a look of suspicion and a look of hatred.

"I can see that my friend, I would simply like to buy one of your finely made swords and I shall leave you to your work." Deezgul hoped his subtle compliment would entice the blacksmith into negotiations but the big man just carried on working on the breastplate. The Argonian stood his ground for a few moments, deciding on the next action to take, while the sharp ring of hammer on metal echoed around the buildings of Falkreath. Deezgul considered unsheathing his dagger; it would certainly get the blacksmiths attention but it may also result in him losing his own head. He was sure that the only reason the blacksmith wasn't selling the sword was because he didn't want to do business with an Argonian. Most Nordic folk agreed that business dealings with one of Deezguls kind would only lead to trouble; Argonians had a terrible reputation for being sneaky.

"I can come back later, if that is easier for you," Deezgul enquired. This time, the blacksmith stopped working and approached Deezgul. The Argonian remained as still as a statue, keeping his green, scaly hand away from his dagger. The blacksmith stepped down from his workshop and onto the same ground as Deezgul, his hammer still gripped tightly in his hand. Deezgul became very aware of his lack of armour as the large man stepped towards him; studded armour covered his lower half and leather braces adorned his wrists, while the iron armour over his torso was in serious need of repair. To Deezguls surprise, the blacksmith stopped three paces short of him and began to talk.

"You know the Dead Man's Drink?" Deezgul was aware of the local tavern although he was yet to visit it. He had hoped to avoid paying for a bed there tonight but it looked like he might just have to thanks to the blacksmiths unwillingness to sell him a new sword.

"I know it, yes".

"Meet me there at sundown. Bring gold."

"Could I possibly have your name? It would be pretty hard to do business if I have to call you stranger during our...negotiations." Deezgul was pushing his luck and he knew it. The blacksmith had already been pushed into doing business with an Argonian; it was unlikely that he would want to become friendly with one too. Perhaps Deezgul had gone about things the right way this time though, as the blacksmiths hard face softened and his scowl disappeared. With a neutral look on his face, the man didn't look half as threatening.

"Lod."

"My name is Deezgul, it is a pleasure to meet you Lod." The big blacksmith wasn't hanging around to exchange pleasantries though and he had returned to hammering his breastplate before Deezgul could even finish his sentence. The Argonian concluded that the conversation was over but he was happy enough with the result. He would have to pay for a room tonight in an unwelcoming town, he would have to overpay to obtain a new sword and he would have to suffer through awkward conversation with Lod once again but it didn't matter; by morning he would have a sword and his journey to Solitude could continue...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The sun was setting in the sky and Deezgul knew the time had come. He had watched the shadows of the trees grow longer and longer, until they began to disappear into the darkness of the night and then he knew it was time. Having spent most of the day wandering around the immense burial site, admiring the haunting beauty of it all, Deezgul had come to admire this small city. Each gravestone told its own story and he wished he could learn them all but there was business to attend to. _Perhaps another day,_ Deezgul thought.

The Dead Man's Drink tavern was located back towards the centre of Falkreath. Deezgul assumed it had been given that name due to the burial site that stood a few meters away from it and the subtle joke made him smile. The Argonian admired the Humans taste for irony. On his travels, Deezgul had learned that the tavern was run by a woman called Valga Vinicia, a former citizen of Cyrodiil. He had been told that the woman had a fiery nature but Deezgul was certain that the amount of gold he carried would be able to extinguish any flames the woman might spit at him.

Deezgul approached the tavern and heard music being played inside. _Those Bards get everywhere_. He opened the door and was greeted by a cacophony of heat, music and alcoholic smells, the typical greetings of a Skyrim tavern. There were a few people sitting at tables, mostly Nords and off duty soldiers who were discussing the hot topics of the day over ale and mead. Falkreath was a city with a sworn allegiance to the Imperials and that was plain to see; there was Imperial armour everywhere. Falkreath had once been a part of Cyrodiil so the presence of Imperial troops didn't surprise Deezgul. He wasn't at the tavern to talk to soldiers though; he was there to speak to Lod. The big blacksmith was nowhere to be seen though so Deezgul went to see Valga Vinicia instead. She was standing behind the bar serving another Imperial soldier as Deezgul approached and she glimpsed towards him for a brief moment, with the faintest look of shock in her eyes. Composure took over quickly however and once the soldier had paid for his mead, Valga gave Deezgul a broad smile.

"Hello there! What can I do for you traveller?" Despite her best efforts to sound welcoming, Deezgul could still hear the surprise in her voice, mixed with a hint of fear. Still, it was friendlier than the greeting Lod had given him.

"Good evening, I am looking for a bed for the night. Do you have any rooms to spare?"

"But of course!" Valga rummaged under the bar to find a key and Deezgul studied the woman. She had long brown hair and a fair face, despite her age. He had seen her like before; battle hardened women who will smile at you one minute and stab you the next. While Valga searched for the keys, Deezgul thought it would be wise to enquire about Lod.

"Your town's blacksmith, I believe his name is Lod, I am to meet him here. Have you seen him at all today?" Deezgul had to raise his voice over the sound of the music being played in the tavern and his noticeable Argonian accent caught the attention of a man sitting close to the bar. The man looked at Deezgul, his beady eyes fixating on the Argonians dagger. Deezgul stared back at the man, waiting for him to say something. The man had a bald head and was wearing simple blue robes but the look in his eyes worried Deezgul. Before he could analyse the man further though, Valga stopped rummaging under the bar and came up with a key and an answer.

"Lod? Haven't seen him since last night I'm afraid. Why might you be after him?"

"Just some business I have to attend to with him". Deezgul could tell Valga didn't like that answer. Argonian business was considered to be bad business by the citizens of Skyrim and he realized that Valga probably didn't want anything unlawful happening in her tavern, especially not with so many Imperial soldiers around.

"What kind of business?" Valga was wise enough to keep her tone friendly but there was the merest hint of suspicion in her voice too. Deezgul saw no point in lying to her.

"I am buying a sword from him. He was busy earlier on so he told me to meet him here and we could commence business."

"Damn Lod. Well do the business in your room; I don't want any of these soldiers seeing someone buy a weapon in my tavern, it can lead to awkward questions that I don't have the answers to."

Deezgul suspected that Valga was probably involved in some kind of unlawful activity herself, which was why she was so suspicious of his business dealings but he was not stupid enough to quiz her about it. He paid for his room and Valga showed him where he would be sleeping. The room was small but it had a bed and that was all Deezgul needed. As Valga left the room, she turned back and said, "I'll send Lod to your room when I see him. Make it quick." Deezgul had every intention of making it quick.

He felt the hours pass and tiredness crept into his body and mind. He had been out to the bar twice to purchase a drink and had enquired about Lod on both occasions but Valga was adamant that Lod had not entered the tavern. As Deezgul walked back to his room, a man stumbled into him. He was almost knocked to the ground but Deezgul managed to stay on his feet and hold the man up too. The drunken man stared up at the Argonian and to Deezguls surprise, it was the same bald man who had been staring at him when he first entered the tavern earlier that night.

"Thank you kind stranger." The man had a soft voice but those were the only words Deezgul would hear him say, as the man regained his composure and walked out of the bar, staggering only once or twice. Deezgul was slightly shocked by the incident but shrugged it off when he remembered how annoyed he was about Lod not showing up. The midnight hour was approaching and sundown had long gone. Deezgul entered his room and sat on the hard bed, wondering why the blacksmith had decided to not come. He pondered the question for some time, until he heard the lock twist in his door. _Is that Valga?_

"Valga? Did you just lock the door?" There was no answer from the other side. Deezgul grabbed the handle and tried to open the big wooden door but it refused to move. A twinge of panic hit him.

_Why would she lock me in?_

Deezgul had stayed at taverns in Skyrim before and it was not customary for the innkeeper to lock in their patrons at night. He remained calm and reached for his pocket to use his own key to unlock the door; but his pocket was empty. Deezgul stared down at the pocket on the front of his hide armour and scrabbled around looking for the key but the pocket was barren.

_The bald man. _

Deezgul realised the man must have pick pocketed him when he stopped the man from falling flat on the floor. A calculated move, the Argonian concluded.

"Valga!" Deezgul shouted for the Imperial woman, in a desperate attempt to get his door open and to destroy the pieces of the puzzle that were beginning to fit together in his head. Deezgul knew he was wanted but he didn't think anyone in Falkreath knew. How wrong he was.

Giving up on Valga, the Argonian walked towards the window and prepared to smash it and provide himself with a quick exit. Suddenly, the window smashed and two steel arrows came flying through the room. One missed Deezgul completely, the other grazed his arm. He wasn't worried about that though, he was much more worried about the fact his only viable escape route was about to be cut off by a hundred more arrows. Two more flew through the open window pane but both missed the Argonian and buried themselves deep within the door. Deezgul dropped to the floor as more arrows whistled above his head. Who was firing them? Lod? The bald man? Imperial soldiers? He had no idea but one thing he did know; barring some kind of miracle, death would not be far away.


End file.
